Cheek By Jowl

Someone stole the cork out of mummy’s lunch

In a small single room, a couple lie sleeping on a double bed, their two children sound asleep on mattresses on the floor.  Suitcases, clothing and other personal belongings are arranged as neatly as possible around them, hardly a square foot of floor space to spare.  The family dog, curled up on a small circular bed, joins the chorus of contented breathing and the occasional snore.

Down the passage, every other room is occupied to capacity by groups of unlikely roommates, all grateful for a comfortable place to lay their heads.  A shelter for the homeless and the destitute ?  No.  A home in the suburbs, turned boarding house, to accommodate family from another town who are visiting for Christmas. Living cheek by jowl with your nearest and dearest never fails to end in tears. Sometimes tears of laughter and sometimes of tears of frustration and horror at being related to a set of very disagreeable persons.

In our family, provided the stay is of short enough duration, the experience takes on a carnival atmosphere with kids being put to bed fresh from the pool, frequently with un-brushed teeth and hair.  The big kids dress the small kids, while the mothers flounce around with glasses of champagne, rustling up the next round of nose bags for the hungry mob.  Whether or not the youngest in the group choose to eat these offerings, is of little concern to their parents, as a ceasefire in the war on nutrition is declared for the duration of the festivities. Croissants and Nutella for breakfast, the entire contents of a Cadbury’s Santa Stocking as an “in between meal” snack, a buttered bread roll for dinner, are all suitable choices provided the diner eats them neatly and quietly, and without bothering their resting parent.

Routine will resume soon enough, but for now, everyone gets to enjoy the welcome break, and each other’s company.